


Keep Your Eyes on the Screen

by StarlightXNightmare



Series: Septic Egos [45]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Insults, POV Second Person, Sleep Deprivation, Swearing, Threats, zalgo text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightXNightmare/pseuds/StarlightXNightmare
Summary: A certain puppet messed up.





	Keep Your Eyes on the Screen

**Author's Note:**

> A fun experimentation I worked on that Discord peeps seem to love.

You used to think that people complaining about their eyes being sore was an exaggeration but now you understood the pain. They stung and felt so dry, the pain only letting up briefly when you blinked sluggishly. The bags under your eyes were dark rings, bruises that pounded constantly. You longed to close your eyes and slip into a deep sleep but you couldn’t. Who knows what would happen if you did?

Loud music blasted from your headphones, drilling into your ears and assaulting your brain. Normally you played it softer though this volume was to keep you from passing out, but now even the loud rock sounded like a lullabye. The screen in front of you flickered faintly as you scrolled, jaw cracking as you yawn loudly. What else could you do? Taking your eyes off the screen for too long doomed one of them. They were relying on you like you had relied on them, and like hell were you going to let them get hurt because of your actions.

The screen went black and it took you a moment to comprehend what had happened, blinking slowly at the new development. What happened…? You tapped the mouse button a few times before picking it up and slamming it down on the mousepad agitatedly. Did this mean you won? Or  _lost_?

Just before you were going to slap the computer and unplug it, a text box appeared, white words popping up inside, letters rolling leisurely across the screen.

Fee͢ļi̵ng ̶ti̛r͏ed?̴ Maybe ҉you̕ şho͏u͏l͠d҉ ͡re̕st ͏yo̕ur̵ ey͝e̷s,̸ ta͡ke a҉ ̢s͏h͠ơrt ̴na͞p͟.

Hitting the right keys was a difficult challenge (you had to backspace a few times and look down at the keyboard) but you were satisfied with your most certainly well-thought out answer. You giggled when you felt bad for the enter key after you smashed it down.

_Fuck you, glitch bitch._

For a long minute the screen remained black, no new words popping up. Hopefully the fucker got the message and left—forever preferably. No dice unfortunately.

The screen glitched violently, an array of bright colors in chunks filling the screen. You laughed out loud at the realization that he was throwing a tantrum. It appeared to spasm, tired eyes straining painfully to absorb the flashing neon colors.

W͝ha͠t ҉wa̸s̶ ͠that, ̸pu͟p̡p͟et?͝ ̛S̶ay ̨t̛ha̛t͡ a͝gain.̕ I f͟u͟c̴͡k͏̡i͜n̴g͡͏͠ ̧da̧r̛͟e̶̵ ̕͡yo̶u̕҉.

If you weren’t so tired you wouldn’t have made that mistake or (if you had anyway) you would’ve begged for forgiveness and groveled at His feet. But bad ideas were increasingly more appealing in this sleep deprived state and you caved in to your desires easily. With loud clicking of the keyboard you punched a similar answer in.

_Piss off and die._

The letters that appeared did so slower than ever before.

O͝h͢,̴ ͠p͏u̧p҉p҉et,.̸ ͟you͘’l҉l ͝re͢gr͟et ̛th͘at̨͠ i͢͜m̵҉̡m̵̡͠eņs͢e̴̢̨l͞҉y҉͘.͢͠

The computer shut off immediately, whirring dying as the monitor went pitch black. After several minutes of expectant staring at a blank screen, you concluded nothing else was going to happen. For the first time in two days you slumped forward in relief, head tilting back and weary eyes falling shut. You pillowed your head in your arms, sighing happily. Your back would murder you when you woke up but that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was blissful unconsciousness. Within seconds you were out like a light.

* * *

A beeping noise roused you from your pleasant slumber. Shifting with a noise of discontentment, you raised your head, blinking the crust out of your eyes. You noticed several things. You had fallen asleep, your headphones were still on and turned up very loud, and your computer was back on. And something about the layout was very different.

The background had been changed from colorful fanart to a close up picture of some large, dried dark brown stain on concrete. All your files and icons on your desktop were gone except for one you didn’t recognize. It was a video icon labelled “your fault.”

Guilt immediately flooded you, the crushing sensation squeezing your heart like a stress ball. You couldn’t begin to imagine what had happened. Well, you _could_  but you didn’t like any of them too much.

“No thanks; fuck that.” You really didn’t want to click on it. Turns out it wasn’t your choice to make anyway.

You͢'ŗe̷ n͠ot ̡gett̸in͝g ̷ou̢t̕ o҉f̶ ͘th̶is tha̴t ea̡s҉i͞ly.

The video file opened on its own.

The contents made your stomach churn violently, eyes widening in horror. People often talked about how something was so awful that you couldn’t take your eyes off it—like watching a trainwreck—and that’s what you were experiencing now.

You snapped out of your trance, turning your head to the side and cupping a hand to your mouth as the terrified wails made your ears throb. The final straw was the screaming pleads that came from both the beaten and witnesses. You ripped your headphones off and threw them at the monitor, watching as it tipped back and hit the wall. You could still hear the screams from the headphones, so you slammed your hand into the speakers, scrambling to twist the dial all the way down.

Squeezing your eyes shut, hands over your ears, and breathing deeply was all you could do to prevent yourself from spiraling into a panic attack. You could feel your body trembling. Your eyes stung again but for a different reason this time.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck…” you whispered, your mantra only changing to add new words to describe your emotions.

Skin prickling static washed over your hunched over form, the noise unusually light and airy. Instead of burning, it cradled you, petting you softly. The atmosphere shifted and there was a presence looming over you, hands wrapped bruisingly tight around your wrists and nails biting bloody crescent shaped marks into your skin, wrenching them away from your ears.

“͏Yo̴u're ͜n͢ot҉ w̢at̵ching.̷” The voice was uncomfortably soft, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You shook your head minutely.

“A͡ren't yo͝u ͏pr̵oud ̸of̵ w̵h̵a̛t̕ ͞yo̡u̢'ve͡ ̡don͟e̶?̨ Th͠a͘t̨'̛s wh̨y̸ you̡ d҉id͜ i̡t͡, isn̴’t ͜i̷t?̵ ̨B͢ecaus͏e ̕you̢ ͝w̶an̷te̶d them̴ ҉to s͠u͞f͜f̵er͏?”

Proud was the very opposite of what you were feeling and he knew it. That was the last thing you had wanted. You shook your head again.

“O͡r i͡s͘ it̕ b̶ec͠au̴se̛ ͢y͏ou͝'̕re ̢a sa̴d̷isti̵c̛, att͢en̴ti̕on w͞hore̛? Did you w҉ant ̷M̨a͏s̕te҉r͠'s̕ a̵t̷t̢e̡n͡t̨i͏on? W̶el̷l,̨ y̸o͝u͢ ̧h̷a͠ve i̸t ͏no̸w̛.͜”

This time you couldn’t repress your sob, shoulders shaking and chest tightening. All you could was the guilt, repulsion, and self loathing of what you’d done. Eyes welled up with fat tears, clumping your eyelashes together and running down your cheeks.

He was right: it was all your fault. It was all too much; you just wanted it to stop—the video, the feelings, the static, everything.

The static seemed to sink into your skin and into your bloodstream, infiltrating your brain and snitching your thoughts back to him. Maybe that was what was happening.

“Y͠o̴u're̛ ͜ģo͘in͘g ̴to͜ i͠gn̢o͞r̡e͝ th͟e͟ gi̵f͜t͢ I͞ so gr̨ac̕iơu̴sl͠y̷ ̢gave ̶y̧o͜u a͠f͠te͟r͟ you i͢n̷͟s҉̵͏ư̸̧l͠ţ͡e̵d̸͟͜ me?͘ How̡ in̢co̕ns͘id͠e̷rate̡ of̴ ͘y̛ou."͟

It was hard to breathe by now, gasping and choking between your panicked sobs. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it…

"͡Wat̡c̶h̸ it.҉ ̕A҉l̴l͢ ͠o̡f i̧t.̡”

His hands were on your cheeks, smushing them and forcing your head back to the screen. The video glitched back to the beginning and the speakers cranked up to full blast.

“̢K̨e͢e̢p yo͘u͞r ͘e͏yęs͜ ̷o̶n t͟he scre͞e̛n or ͜I'̨l̶l ͜r̶i͏p̡ ͢t̵hem̛ ͝out̡ ̷of their̶ f̡u͢cki̶n͏g̷ sock҉e͏t͡s͏ wit̕h my̛ ̵bare h̵a͢n̶ds.͡"̷  The hand carding through your hair gently and the thumb brushing your tears away conflicted with your fear. "Un̢de͢r͏stand?” He growled.

You nodded helplessly.

You just sat there and watched through blurred vision. L̨ik̢e a̴ good,͘ ҉l͜it͢t͟le͏ pu̕p͞p̕e̛t͢.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be doing more with this later :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633411) by [Ace (HMSquared)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/Ace)




End file.
